Lyon County times. [volume] (Silver City, Nev.) 1874-1907, 1887-09-17
CHAPTER XVI.
FRANK MULLER's FAMILIAR.

country. 1ne dead weight OF the law WOE
crush it back to the level of the human nU..
around it, But those who have lived i'll til
wild places of the earth will be acquaintcd
with its prototypes, more especially in those
places where handful of a superior race rules
over the dense thousands of an inferior Soil
tudes are favorable to the production OF
strongly marked mdividuaities The com
panionship of highly developed men, on the
contrary, whittles individualities away, the
difference between their growth being the
difference between the growth of tree on
plain and tree in the forest. On the plain
the tree takes the innate bent of its nature
1t springs in majesty toward the skies: it
spreads itself around or it sants along the
earth lust as nature intended that it should
and in accordance with the power of the
providential breath that bends it. In the
forest it is different. There the tree grows
toward the light wherever the light may be-
Forced to modify its natural habit in obedi-
ence to the pressure of circumstances over
which it has no CONTROL it takes such form
and height as its neghbors will allow to it,
all its energies being directed to the preserva-
tion of life, i'll any shape and at any atrifice
Thus it is with us all. Left to ourselves, or
surrounded only by the scrub of humanity,
we become outwardly that which the spirit
within would fashion us to, but placed among
our fellows, shackled by custom, restrained
by law pruned and bent by the force of pub
lie opinion, we grow as like one to another as
the fruit bushes on a garden wall The sharp
angles of our characters are fretted away by
the friction of the crowd, aud we become
round and polished, aud specifically, at any
rate, Identical We no longer resemble
solitary bowlder on plain, but are as stone
built into the great edlfice of civilized society
The place of a man like Frank Muller is at
the junction of the waters of civilization and
barbarism. Too civilized to possess those
savage virtues which, such as they are, repre-
sent the quantum of innate good nature has
thought fit to allow in the mixture man, and
too barbarous to be subject to the tenderer
restraints of cultivated society, he is at once
strong in the strength of both and weak in
their weaknesses Animated by the spirit of
barharisnl, superstition ami almost entirely
destitute of the spirit of civilization, mercy,
he stands on the edge of both and an affrolt
to both, as terrific moral spectacle as the
world can afford.
Had be been little more civilized, with
his power of evil trained by education and
cynical reflection to defy the attacks of those
spaslns of unreasoning spiritual terror and
understandable passion that have their natural
dwelling place in the raw, strong mind OF
mcultivated man, Frank Muller might have
broken upon the world a Napoleon. Had
he been a little more savage, little further
removed from the unconscious but present
influence of progressive race, he might have
ground his fellows down and ruthlessly
destroyed them in the madness of his rage
and lust like an Attila or a T'Chaka. As 1t
was, he was buffeted between two forces he
did not realize, even when they swayed him,
and thus at every step in his path toward
supremacy of evil an unseen power made
stumbling blocks of weaknesses Which, if that
path had been laid along a little higher or
little lower level in the scale of circumstance,
would themselves have been deadly weapons
of overmaStering force.
See him, as with his dark heart filled up
with fears, he thunders along from the scene
of midnight death and murder his brain had
not feared to plan and his hand to execute.
Onward his black horse strides, companioned
by the storm, like a dark thought travelling
on the wings of Night. He does not believe
in any God, and yet the terrible fears that
spring up in his soul, born fungus like from
a dew of blood, take shape and form, and
seem to cry aloud, ave are the messengers Of
the avenGing God" He glances up. High
on the black bosom of the storm the finger
of the lightning is writing that awful name,
and again AID again the voice of the thunder
reads it out aloud in spirit shaking accents.
He shuts his dazed eyes, and even the falling
rhythm of his horses hoOfs beat out There is
q God! there is Godm from the silent earth
on which they strike.
And so on through the tempest and the
night, flying from that which no man can
leave behind.
1t was near midnight when Frank Muller
drew rein at wretched mud hut perched by
itself on the banks of the Naal, and fianked
on its rear by an equally miserable shed. The
place was as silent as the grave; not even
dog barked.
'If that beast of Kaffir is not here" he
said aloud, II will have him flogged to death.
Hendrix! Hendrix"
AS he called, form rose up at his very
feet, causing the weary horse to start back SO
violently that he almost threw his rider to the
ground.
"What in the name of the devil are you"
almost shrieked Frank Muller, whose nerves,
indeed, were in no condition to stand fresh
shocks. rr. --- te-t -- Is.
at is me- baas," said the form, at the same
time throwing off gray blanket in which it
was enveloped, and revealing the villainous
countenance of the one eyed witch doctor who
had taken the letter to Bessie, and who had
for years been Muler's body servant, and fol
lowed him about like dog.
"Curse you, you dog! What do you mean
by hiding up like that' 1t is one of your in
fernal tricks; be careful"-tapping his pistol
case-"or shall one day put an end to you
and your witchcraft together"
II am very sorry, baaS," said the man, in a
whine, "but half an hour ago l heard you
coming. l don't know what is the matter
with the air tonight but it sounded as
though twenty people were galloping after
you. I could hear them all quite clear; first
the big black horse, and then all those who
came after, just as though they were hunting
you; and so | came out and lay down to lis
ten, and it was not till you were quite close
that one by one the others stopped, Perhaps
it was the devils who galloped."
Course you, stop that wizards talk" said
! Muller, his teeth chattering with fear and
agitation. Take the horse and clean and
feed him well; he has galloped far, and we